I spilled your Blood on the Floor
by Momotastic
Summary: Moriarty has turned Sherlock into a vampire and ever since then Sherlock has been thirsty. The blood from the bank doesn't help but then John comes back home ... Sort of an AU of A Thousand Summers


_Feed. Thirst. Hunger. Need. Want. Blood. Warm. Thirsty. So thirsty._

Sherlock's thoughts have been going in circles for hours already. It makes him restless and irritated.

It's been over a week since Moriarty turned him. Sherlock had managed to escape before Moriarty could make him feed from a living person and Sherlock has had many blood bags since then. John has been so incredibly helpful and understanding.

But no matter how much Sherlock drinks, he always only becomes thirstier.

John had gone out to get more blood an hour ago and Sherlock is anxiously awaiting his return.

_Want. Need. Blood. Thirst._

A key in the lock and before Sherlock knows what he's doing he's pinning John against the front door, ripping away his scarf and licking the skin on his neck.

He vaguely registers John's warning but all Sherlock can hear is John's heartbeat, the blood rushing through his veins.

John is trying to fight him off, shove him away and cover his neck back up but Sherlock is so much stronger now. He easily manages to spin John around and press him face first against the door, holding his arms behind his back with one hand and tilting his head to the side with the other.

Sherlock inhales again, savouring John's scent and then he sinks his teeth into the soft skin on John's neck.

John screams in pain but Sherlock puts his hand on his mouth, silencing him effectively. The warm welling blood tastes wonderful and Sherlock drinks greedily.

He can feel John's pulse slowing and with great reluctance he pulls off and away. It takes him a moment to come back to himself and then he sees what he did.

"No, John, I'm sorry," he shouts and pulls John close. He's still bleeding and Sherlock has problems concentrating but he has to focus or he'll lose John.

"Moriarty," he hisses and pulls his phone from his pocket. He quickly dials a number and Moriarty answers after the second ring.

"Sherlock! How are you? Having fun with your new body yet?" Moriarty greets him cheerfully.

"How can I save John?" Sherlock asks angrily.

"Oh, did you finally snap and bite Johnny-boy? I must say, you have impeccable self-control. I wouldn't have lasted a week."

"Tell me how I can save John," he demands again.

"Oh but you can't. Well, I suppose in a way you could. I trust you drank enough to almost kill him?" Moriarty sounds as if he were talking to a child who had gorged himself on too many sweets.

"Yes, now tell me what I can do," Sherlock repeats.

"Well, you can let him die …" Moriarty trails off and Sherlock growls dangerously, "Or you can turn him too."

Sherlock disconnects and throws his phone across the hall, chiding himself for not thinking of that himself. Now Moriarty has proof of his continued success.

The decision isn't hard. He can't live without John, even if John ends up hating him for doing this to him.

"I'm sorry, John. So, so sorry," he whispers and then opens his own wrist with his teeth, holding it up to John's mouth.

"Drink, please," Sherlock begs and then, what feels like an eternity later, he can feel John's tongue lapping hesitantly at the few drops of blood that have welled up. It takes only seconds before John starts sucking more forcefully. In the end Sherlock has to push him off to avoid being drained himself. All that's left to do now is for him watch in horror as John writhes in pain on the floor.

Finally, hours later, John goes limp again. He's lying on his back completely still and with his eyes closed.

"I'm a vampire too now, aren't I?" he asks hoarsely after a few minutes.

"Yes."

"Why did you do that to me?" John sounds disappointed and sad but not angry.

"I didn't mean to. I had no control over myself when I bit you."

"I suppose the banked blood wasn't enough then."

"It seems that way, yes. We will have to find someone for you to feed on. And now that I'm more in control of myself again I can stop you from draining them."

John winces. Maybe it is too early to talk about hunting.

"In the morning we'll call Mycroft-" John begins but Sherlock's angry growl interrupts him. He doesn't want his brother's help. John opens his eyes only so he can glare at Sherlock. He sits up and snarls. "I'm in this mess now too. We will call Mycroft and he will give us all the information he can find about vampires. I will not have any more surprises. Just think about the danger we're putting other people into. And ourselves."

Sherlock reluctantly agrees. Mycroft is their best way of action.

"Now, I believe I need a drink," John says drily and gets off the floor. He's still contemplating whether a bit from the blood bank will do or if he should get the fresh feeding out of the way now when the door opens and Mrs Hudson steps inside.


End file.
